


The Last RSVP

by crtkelly_writes



Series: Four Weddings and a Baby [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, F/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crtkelly_writes/pseuds/crtkelly_writes
Summary: Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane's wedding weekend at Winterfell has brought the family together including a last minute RSVP from the boy born on the wrong side of the blanket who as an adolescent, not only became Ned Stark's ward, but also Jon Snow's best friend, and most surprising of all: Arya Stark's first love.Gendry Waters was nothing like the pampered princes Arya grew up around and was expected one day to make a match with, and that made the rough around the edges ebony-haired boy with the most glorious blue eyes all the more attractive to the young girl. But when their plans for the future diverged and the young man chose the path she would not follow, she walked away.Little did the rebellious tomboy know that it wasn't only her heart that had broken when she had.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A short tale totally inspired what I have gleaned thus far about Sophie Turner's wedding...Can I just say how much I loved her wedding dress....but highlighting my favorites: Gendrya….

Sansa had ended her telephone call and was about check something off in her planner when she finally sensed that she was being watched. Her long auburn hair swayed and fell perfectly back into place as only her hair could, when the tall beauty turned to find exactly who she had anticipated to be there. Only one person could move so stealthily; appearing out of nowhere, all of a sudden. Jumping up she raced across her bedroom to pull her sister away from the door so that she could lock it and share a private moment with her. Not certain if the rest of the family knew that their resident Wild-child had returned, Sansa did not want to risk any interruption when she broke the news she had to her Maid-of-Honor.

“Arya: you wench, you’re back, at last,” she exclaimed as she hugged the tiny… _strawberry-pink haired girl._ Her blue-eyes had widened at first when Arya had used the opportunity of her embrace, to throw back the hoodie that had hidden this latest escapade of hers, but then, much to the shorter girl’s chagrin, Sansa reached admiringly into the pastel tresses and laughed. “It’s perfect! It will totally compliment your dress. I even like the contrast of the dark roots!”

“Well, fuck, Sansa!”

Her acceptance was clearly not the reaction the younger Stark girl had anticipated, and that, as well as Arya’s foul-mouthed response, made the bride-to-be giggle even more.

“I’m at the point where I’m just rolling with the punches. I refuse to stress anymore about anything or anyone. All that matters is that in a handful of days from now, I am marrying the man I love…the absolute man of my dreams."

“Your Average Joe,” Arya commented with an air of superiority. “Didn’t I tell you years ago that a regular guy will always rank head and shoulders above any of these privileged rich gits you were so into? Joffrey Baratheon…ugh, Gods knows what in the seven hells was going on with you when you latched on to that dick-wad!”

“I was an idiot for sure, but need I remind you that technically our brothers fall under the aforementioned category.”

“Well of course that’s different; they’re all too moronic to fully fit the profile. Plus, they have us as sisters to keep them in line.”

“Not to mention Mum and Dad,” Sansa added. “I would like to see one of them even contemplate disrespecting a female. But you know there are some well-off men who are not related to us who are decent human-beings.”

“And there are plenty of girls who are waiting in line for them. I’ll stick to the common man, thanks. So,” Arya asked, “What’s come up, that you needed to lock the door, Sans? You knocked up and need me to break the news to Dad?”

Sansa ignored that and drew her sister to sit on the bed smiling nervously, “Actually, it’s not far off from the topic we’ve just been discussing.” She took a deep breath that had Arya wondering what could be so momentous that she had to build up the nerve to inform her. “A last-minute RSVP came in... two days ago.”

Arya waited for her sister to get to the point and raised an eyebrow when Sansa hesitated. “Two days ago; that’s nervy, I hope you told them to sod off. Even **_I_** know what a faux pas that is. Who the fuck…”?

“It was your Joe, Arya,” Sansa interjected. “Gendry…”

Arya blinked, hating the fact that mere mention of his name could bring tears to her eyes. Swiping her face of one errant drop of moisture, she smiled at her sister. “Jon will be over the moon to see him again,” she responded steadily. “Sandor, not so much,” referring to their brother and her sister’s fiancée. “Presuming that’s what you wanted to tell me, that you’ve okayed him coming?”

“Yes, it is.” She watched her sister before continuing, “In a moment of weakness, I thought it would be good for the two of you to see each other again: to talk and clear the air once and for all.”

“Are you mental, Sans? Need I remind you whom I’ve just come from holidaying with, who is also here as my plus one for your wedding?”

“Well, he’s bringing someone as well, so there shouldn’t be any issue.”

She didn’t bother to see the reaction that particular fact garnered as she continued. “It’s just that with Jon about to propose to Ygritte soon, the likelihood that Gendry will be asked to be best-man is as probable as Ygritte asking you to stand up for her. Better to get the awkwardness over with sooner rather than later, don’t you think?” 

“And the fact that none of you think Jaqen is good enough for me, has nothing to do with this, right?”

“That’s not it at all. We just don’t know him, but if he makes you happy then we are happy. You’ve moved on and we respect that, Arya.” She stared intensely at her sister. “I mean you have moved on, right?”

Arya resolved that she could absolutely not give her sister anything to stress about, so she smiled. “I have,” she answered, “As much as he has, so don’t worry about anything Sans; it’s all good.”

**********

Mya Stone sat across from her brother’s seat, shaking her head. Now that the Learjet had levelled off at it’s cruising altitude, Gendry had taken the opportunity to visit the lavatory leaving behind his mobile on his armrest. Nosy sister that she was, she had reached for the device, hoping against hope that the lug-head hadn’t the foresight to lock it. She was rewarded two-fold in that not only did he not have a password, but the fool hadn’t even bothered exit the app he had been on.

And there she was in all her glory: Arya Stark of Winterfell.

Scrolling through the Instagram page, as quickly as she could, Mya saw everything that she needed to confirm exactly why at the last minute she was heading north for this three-day love fest. The chance to reconnect with the family he had spent much of his youth with my foot. Her brother was going to Sansa Stark’s wedding for one reason and one reason only: that being the adventurous brunette he was still enamored with after all this time.

What an idiot, she thought, not because he was aiming to meet Ayra Stark again, but because he had asked her to come along instead of some gorgeous girl who could turn the youngest Stark girl green with envy.

Oh well she thought, slipping the phone back just before her half-brother returned. She peered over the magazine she had buried her head in and rolled her eyes. Pathetic, she thought noting that he had gone right back to pining over the girl he had lost. She supposed she would have to be the one help the lovable fool out as much as she could, if there was still anything between Gendry and this Arya Stark. If she deserved him that was.

She sighed. The things a sister had to do for the love of a brother, she thought


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argh where the hell did seven month go...and why the hell did I ever stop writing?
> 
> Okay Chapter two of this....Arya is a mess, but so is the author of this story so forgive us both....
> 
> here's to hoping this chapter makes some sense LOL

**“I mean, you have moved on, right?** ”

  
Arya gave her sister one perfunctory smile after another; nodding when she thought it was expected, but not really adding much to the conversation, as Sansa excitedly rehashed the meticulously laid plans for the pre-nuptial events that would begin with tonight’s welcoming dinner, up until the actual wedding day itself. Not that her input was needed, but even if it had, Arya doubted that she would have been of any use, not when the inner voice repeating that one question was practically drowning Sansa’s voice out, rendering her clueless as to the finer points of whatever Sansa was going over.

  
**” …You have moved on, right?”**

  
She nodded eagerly. ‘Yes… yes’ she affirmed in her head. She had. She had moved on and even if she and Jaqen weren’t quite in synch right now, that didn’t mean anything…right? ‘No, no it didn’t Arya thought, quickly dismissing the idea as she tried to focus on her sister’s much deserved excitement. This was Sansa and Sandor’s time, and she owed it to both to be present and in the moment; not wallowing over a past she had already left behind. As had Gendry, she surmised, given that he would be bringing someone…a date… with him to the wedding. So, the fact that she could scarcely breath now, had nothing to do with any non-existing residual feelings she had for Gendry Wat…Baratheon. That’s right, he was legally a Baratheon now, choosing to adopt his father’s name along the new life he had chosen. Chosen over their dreams, over their plans…over her. If that wasn’t reason to leave him in the past, then nothing was. And logically she realized that they were bound to meet again one day. Knowing that it was closer than she would have ever imagined this morning, when got on her flight home, was something she had to put aside.

  
If she could just breathe. 

  
“Dammit,” she muttered, before she could catch herself, but it was too late…her sister had fallen silent.

  
“Sansa, Sans…I….” Arya began apologetically, before her always poised sister passed her a look of understanding and grabbed the hands that were now tangled in her pink shoulder length tendrils. 

  
“Arya Lyanna Stark, I don’t have a problem with you coloring your hair, but I will take exception to you sporting a couple of bald patches on my wedding day.” The taller girl sent a look of compassion in her direction when her attempt at humor fell flat. “Are you okay? If I had any idea that you…”

  
“No…no Sans,” Arya interrupted her forcing a smile, “It’s alright, honest. He… Gendry,” she ground out, “He’s, well he’s practically family; of course, you should have invited him. I was just caught off guard that’s all. I didn’t think that…” she didn’t finish her thought that she imagined that his new life would have kept him from attending. But it hadn’t, and not only that he was bringing someone. Which meant she had no choice but to move on now Instead, she shook her head, and tried her best to smile reassuringly at her sibling. “No, no… I’m perfectly fine, I promise, so don’t worry, okay?”

  
The two sisters stared at each other for the longest while, but finally, to Arya’s relief, Sansa nodded.

  
The redhead then sighed, “You still look like you could use a drink, but unfortunately the strongest I have right now is sparkling water. And, somehow, I don’t think that’s going to do the trick.”

  
“Probably not,” Arya agreed.

  
“So,” the older girl said, “We can either venture out for something, and lose the chance to talk in private” she said, with a slightly cheeky grin, “ or we can settle for some bubbly water and just change the topic from me and you can tell me how fabulous your holiday was… your insta pics were fire, but I’m sure a lot went on behind the scenes, beyond all of that majestic blue water. I’ve never seen such…” she exclaimed. “It almost had me regretting my honeymoon plans. If it wasn’t already too late, I would beg Sandor to take me to Tarth.”

  
Arya laughed. As if that was an issue. Sandor Clegane was putty in her sister’s hands. If the giant of man got even a hint that his bride was now favoring a tropical local for their wedding trip, it would happen, and Sansa knew it. In fact, …

  
Just then, a loud click from across the room stole their attention, and the pair looked towards the bedroom door which suddenly swung open to reveal two women: Ygritte, who still held the slim metal pick she had used to on the lock, with a glowing Margery Tyrell-Stark bringing up the rear, the latter carrying a tray holding a chilled bottle of champagne and four glasses.

  
“Little Bitch,” Ygritte calling out her perverted version of Jon’s nickname for Arya, as she crossed the threshold to greet her friend.

  
“Hey, Ygritte, still breaking the law, I see,” Arya said by way of greeting before hugging her favorite brother’s girlfriend.

  
“Naturally,” the slim northern woman replied, as she released Arya so she could take the tray from Margery. “Someone has to keep that your copper brother on his toes. Besides,” she added as she made quick work of popping the cork, “When I get too out of hand, he brings out his cuffs, and it gets fun, real fast.”

  
Arya groaned, and turned to her sister-in-law Margery, who shone with the beauty that only an expectant mother could. “Oh, Marg, you look stunning,” Arya exclaimed candidly, in awe that despite being so heavily pregnant the taller brunette put all three of them to shame. Considering how attractive Sansa and Ygritte were, that was saying something. As for herself, Arya knew she didn’t even rank in the group.

  
Robb’s wife encircled her youngest sister-in-law in as close of an embrace that her swollen tummy allowed. “Oh Darling-Girl, you know just what to say to make me feel better when I’m feeling low.”

  
From her vantage, Arya spied Ygritte rolling her eyes, but concern for her brother’s pregnant wife overruled Arya seeking a reason for it. “Margery, everything is okay right,” Arya asked, becoming even more confused when her query was met with musical laughter.

Taking a seat on the settee, Margery, lovingly pressed one hand on her burgeoning baby bump. “We’re not too late, are we?”

  
“Sans?” Arya asked automatically deferring to Sansa, assuming there was some wedding matter that required discussing.

  
“Not Sansa, Little Bitch…you. Are we too late for the low-down,” Ygritte demanded, as she pushed a full flute of Dom Perignon into her friend’s hand? “A blow-by-blow account of your holiday with that sex-on-a-stick man of yours... with a special emphasis on the blowing, for our Margery’s sake,” the fiery redhead stated with a wink, as she handed expectant mother a glass of sparkling water. “Our poor Marg is suffering greatly nowadays, now that Robb has taken a vow of abstinence in the name of not wishing harm on his beloved and their child.”

  
Arya sputtered.

  
“It’s true,” Margery lamented pitifully. “Right as my libido spikes, he pulls away. I have no choice, but to live vicariously through my dear sisters for now and my special toy collection.”

  
Arya, flushed.  
It wasn’t unusual for the women to be so open with each other, and once, one very special time, she had had a tell-all of her own to share, but this was too much for her to handle today.   
“Ahh, shouldn’t all of the focus be on our bride-to-be?” Continuing in hopes of subverting attention from herself, she raised her glass, to her sister. “Congratulations Sansa, I’m so happy for you. You have chosen one of the best guys I know, and you and Sandor are going to have an amazing life together.”

  
Sansa’s eyes immediately filled, and she went to her little sister and hugged her. The two other women smiled tenderly as well, and when the sisters separated, Ygritte and Margery raised their own glasses to salute the bride-to-be. They drank and then smiled at each other.

  
Arya sighed in relief.

  
Beaming, Sansa dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you, Arya,” she said guiding her sister back to where she had been sitting. “I am so happy and so excited to finally be with Sandor. I want the next few days to be perfect for him.”

  
“It will be Sans; we will do everything we can to make sure it is.”  
“I know,” Sansa replied. “But my dear sister, even I have to admit the planning has been exhausting and I’m ready for the fun to begin. Which means I must concur with the group. You are not getting off that easily. There had to be more to your holiday the sparkling azure waters you flooded your timeline with. It’s time, my dear Arya, and you are the first act of this party weekend. It’s time to spill the tea.”

  
Her cheeks flaming, Arya looked away from the three sets of imploring eyes focusing on her and drained what remained of her glass. “There’s not much to tell,” she whispered. “Actually; nothing at all to tell if you want the truth. I…we…. It just didn’t pan out…I’m sorry, I need to go if that’s okay, Sans. There’s something I…I just really need to go.”

**********  
Mya’s palm itched to smack her thick-headed brother upside his empty skull. Obviously the time Gendry had spent at Winterfell during his youth made his arrival this afternoon akin to a family member returning home, but the bloody fool had stepped so far over the line with his inattention to their hosts, practically from the moment they had entered the manse. True, he had greeted Lord and Lady Stark appropriately, however it wasn’t long before his attention was stolen; his eyes roaming everywhere save his hosts; his ears attune to every sound around him, as he sought out Arya Stark. It, his behavior, was gods-damned abhorrent, but because she wasn’t at liberty to punch the stupid bull, she settled instead for a surreptitious kick to her half-brother’s shin, when Lord Stark’s last query went unanswered for longer than was polite. 

  
“It’s going well Uncle Ned,” Gendry finally responded, thankfully not so far gone that he hadn’t heard what had been asked of him. “I’m glad to have the opportunity to head Baratheon Industries’ Philanthropic Division. Once Robert was convinced that a revamp of corporation’s charitable foundation would result increased goodwill in the community, he allowed me to take the lead as I saw fit. We’ve since done some amazing work and helped so many organizations as a result.”

  
“Not to mention the profit spinoff, Lord Stark,” Mya added. “Gendry is being far too modest, not to mention that. As our corporate image has risen favorably in the community, investors who would normally have given us a wide berth have begun to see us as a company they wish to be associated with and have started flocking to us. A lot of this is solely due to Gendry’s efforts.”

  
Both Lord and Lady Stark beamed proudly at their former ward, and he responded accordingly. Where-as her brother had never sought validation from their biological parent, it was clear to Mya that this family’s pride meant the world to him.

  
Both Ned and Catelynn Stark had been less than convinced that entering the corporate world under his father’s banner would be right for the young man; something that had been substantiated when in a major state of remorse, Gendry had contacted them a month later bemoaning the fact that he had made the biggest mistake of his life. He didn’t belong in King’s Landing, let alone under the tutelage Robert Baratheon. Not that anyone, even the man’s closest friends, would ever be able to get this across to the ruthless CEO who had seen the presence of his attractive offspring a boon and under no uncertain terms would he willingly allow Gendry to walk away now without a fight. He wanted his son there with him. His daughter too it seemed, Ned observed as he studied Gendry’s half-sister. He could just imagine the ego-boost Robert was given by having his mirror-images there with him, especially when both of his natural-born offspring proved heads-and-shoulder above his legitimate heir, in both character and professional acumen. “It all worked out for the best, then son” Eddard Stark voiced.

  
“It has,” Gendry assured them.   
“I just want to offer help to those who need it,” Gendry stated. “If I need to gussy up more than I would like, then that’s the sacrifice I am more willing to make. And frankly, Mya is best suited to be Robert’s Right-Hand; she has his ruthlessness when it comes to business,” he added, not at all unkindly, but with the air of a very proud sibling.

  
“Excellent…excellent. Now how about we get you two settled,” Lady Stark interjected. “Sansa has got a tight schedule, and you probably would like to freshen up before our little bridezilla starts cracking the whip. None of us dare incur her wrath,” she added in a very un-lady Stark-like fashion. “Speaking of which…”

  
“Gendry!”  
The raven-haired man had just a second’s warning before Sansa Stark crossed the hall and launched himself into his arms. “I’m so glad you decided to come,” she shrieked in his ear, and then lowered her voice for his ears only. “You have no idea how glad I am.” 

  
She felt nothing like the smaller Stark girl he yearned to have in his arms, but it was good to meet her all the same. After the hell his half-brother had put her through, he was thrilled that Sansa had found a man worthy of her, and even though they hadn’t been that close growing up, he was glad that she wanted him to share her day. Before he settled her back on the ground, he offered his congratulations, only to notice that the room had filled with more kin he would need to greet before he could ask about Arya. He released the bride in favor of her brother, whose shocked expression let him know that no one had bothered to let him know that his best friend would be attending the wedding.

  
“You Gods-damned bounder! I thought you couldn’t make it!”

  
Gendry winced when Jon cuffed him hard in the shoulder before gripping his best friend in a bone-crushing bear-hug to save himself from another jab.  
“It’s good to see you too mate, how’s things?”

  
“Good…and even better now that you are here. You seem to have the uncanny knack of knowing when I need you at my side.”   
Gendry pulled back from his friend’s embrace, his eyebrows raised, but then Jon was shoved away by his fiery girlfriend. Ygritte who kissed him solidly on the lips.

  
“Gendry Waters, your gorgeous bastard, is she your woman,” the brash red-headed asked, brazenly nodding in Mya’s direction. She was never one to beat around the bush, so he wasn’t at all surprised by Ygritte’s directness. 

  
It seemed she was only asking what the Stark siblings were keen to know, judging by their rapt attention for his response.

  
Finally, demonstrating the manners, she knew he had in him, Mya allowed her brother to draw her to the gathering crew of Starks and their partners. Not all of them she noticed, quickly scanning the two men and three women in front of her. The one she was most eager to meet was no where to be seen, and she couldn’t help but wonder why not.  
“This is Mya Stone,” Gendry announced reverently. “My older sister and one of best things to come out of me transferring to Kings Landing. She’s been my rock, to tell the truth, I wouldn’t have made it there without her. Mya this is Robb and his wife Margery, Jon and his girlfriend Ygritte, and as you’ve probably figured out, our beautiful bride Sansa of course.”

  
“I’m pleased to meet all of you,” Mya replied once they had all welcomed her. “Gendry speaks so highly of his Winterfell family that I actually feel as if I know everyone already. Although we do seem to be missing a few of you if I’m not mistaken…Arya, Bran and Rickon right?”

  
Her statement got Jon’s attention, and the cousin, Mya knew that Arya Stark favored in both looks and affection, more than any of her other siblings cut in. “Arya, where is Arya anyway,” he threw out to his siblings. “Father said she arrived some time ago, but I have yet to find her. I looked everywhere for her. ”

  
“Nor could I,” said Rob. “But unlike you, Jon, I think that it’s good we haven’t.”

  
“And why’s that,” Mya asked not really caring that she was an interloper to this conversation.

  
There was mirth in his voice when Robb responded. “Because Mya love, our little sister has had the audacity to bring a man home. One, Jon and I have yet to decide whether we approve of. Having Gendry here when we confront this Jaqen dude will be all the better in my eyes. Three big brothers should be just right.”

  
“First of all, Gendry is **not** Arya’s brother and secondly and more importantly, there will be absolutely **no** confronting anyone at my wedding! Both of you and Jon better determine now if you are going to behave or…”

  
“Gods-damn Sansa, chill. You know I’m just joking.”

  
“So is Arya here or not,” Gendry asked.

  
“She did mention that she was going to show Jaqen around,” Margery offered reluctantly.

  
“well I’d really like to know where, as we have been around the grounds all this time and haven’t seen hide nor hair of her. And she’s definitely not in the house.”

  
The Stark women as a whole Mya noted, were quick to avert their eyes from Jon then, and she immediately suspected that they had a fair idea as to Arya’s exact location. Sansa Stark was the first to raise her eyes and when they went straight to Gendry’s, and her brother paled in response, Maya knew that Gendry had surmised Arya’s location as well. And that it was a problem.

  
Instinctively, Maya took a protective step towards her brother. She reached for his hand which was now fisted. “Gen, I’d like to freshen up now. Where was my room again?”

  
Margery Stark took over from her mother-in-law who had long since gone and offered to escort Gendry and Mya to their rooms. 

  
“Thank you. I guess we will see all of you this evening,” Mya said, recognizing that Gendry may need to be away. She doubted that he would tell her what was wrong, but she would not let him debase himself over a girl whom evidently, he had little to no chance with.

  
“You go Mya; rest. I’d like to visit with everyone for a while.”

  
Mya hesitated briefly, casting a worried glance at her sibling. She was quickly getting the lay of the land, and despite her feeling that Sansa Stark was rooting for some sort of reconciliation between Arya and Gendry, enough had been revealed to indicate that this may untenable. “In that case give me a few minutes and I’ll be back, if that’s alright with everyone?”

**********

She was going to fuck everything up again, and once more she would have no one to blame but her gods-damn self, Arya thought. 

  
First had been their ruined vacation, the litany of promises made beforehand that fell to the wayside, when she finally grasped exactly why the brilliant blue waters of Tarth had appealed to her so much. Because they so closely reminded her of his…of Gendry’s. Ocean Eyes she used to call them much to his chagrin. But she loved his eyes as she had loved him. And now being surrounded by a hue singular to him alone, it was unreasonable to think that she could prevent the memory of the man from returning to the fore of her thoughts nor the feelings she thought she had left in the past from re-emerging. And suddenly she just couldn’t fathom another man’s touch, not Jaqen’s, nor any other mans. A cock-tease any other guy would have called her, and the worst of them would just taken what had days ago had been practically thrown at them. But not Jaqen. Instead, he had allayed her guilt to the point that they had found some joy in the days they spent on the beautiful island. 

  
And now she feared she was going to do the same thing because of her fear of coming face to face with Gendry.

  
She shook her head; she couldn’t do this to Jaqen a second time. He had been more patient than any normal guy would have been, and undeniably more understanding than she deserved under the circumstances. She had to move on.

  
He hadn’t spoken since they had entered the cavern and immediately came under the spell of the small chamber that housed one of the lesser used of Winterfell’s hot springs. She allowed him the time to explore the grotto, determined that she there was no better place exorcise every vestige of her memories of the one man who was holding her back from Jaqen.

  
“A girl honors a man in the sharing such an enchanted place.”

  
When his husky voice reached her ears, Arya’s lips fell open with earthy anticipation for the moment Jaqen lowered his mouth to hers and softly probed her mouth with his tongue. She sighed. This, she had no problem with, and she responded to his action like for like, sparring with him as an equal and relishing the passionate moment for what it was. In fact, this time, it was Jaqen who pulled away first, and his eyes that startled when she held him fast to her.

  
“A girl would share all with a man, if he so wishes,” Arya murmured against his lips, desperate to reclaim herself in the very place she had become a woman in another’s arms. “Please Jaqen.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The half-a-minute longer that Gendry stood there staring at her seemed a lifetime, and Arya couldn’t help but wonder if this was as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. Probably not since he wasn’t the one who had been practically begging someone to fuck her a few minutes ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two things  
> Firstly: this story will now be the first in a series, because I have an overactive imagination.  
> And Secondly, I really felt this meet up was necessary before the wedding festivities started. Let me know what you think about it.

A second kiss; and then quite unexpectedly, it happened: the desire that had before been missing, unfurled low in her belly. Arya dismissed the inner-warning that desperation was a bad reason to be doing this; right then, she was just glad that finally after so long, she was able to feel something…anything.  
He must have felt the change in her too, because seconds later, one of the hands that had before lightly rest at her waist moved to the small of her back and urgently pressed her closer to his body. Only their clothing separated them, but it did nothing to detract from the fact that Jaqen was hot and hard all over, and as evident by the throbbing length nestled against her stomach, was very much into what they were embarking upon. Arya unconsciously shivered: enveloped by him, she felt soft and feminine and delicate; all the things she knew she really wasn’t. And when his other hand skimmed up her body leaving a trail of heat in its wake, she couldn’t help but emit a soft moan, as her body came alive under his ministrations. 

  
But then, as suddenly their passion had erupted; it ended when the hands that moments ago were working towards what she had presumed was a mutual goal, left her and set about removing her arms that had encircled his neck. That done, he purposively stepped away to put distance between them.  
Arya could only stare at him dumbfounded by what he was doing.

  
“Are you serious,” she asked breathlessly hoping by the old gods and the new, that she had masked the horror she felt at his deliberate rejection. 

  
“A girl should go, while a man still has the honor to allow her,” Jaqen rasped, as he ran one unsteady hand through his hair.

  
“I…I don’t understand. I thought you wanted this; wanted me,” Arya gasped. She was not as inexperienced not to recognize the heat in his eyes for what it was, nor, she thought, as her own eyes flicked down to where he remained as hard as ever, what that was indicative of. “Jaqen,” she pleaded, as she reached for him, stopping when he gripped her wrist to prevent her from coming any closer. Arya looked at him in shocked disbelief.

  
“A girl seeks satisfaction when she is not ready, and a man would rather she has no regret afterwards. That will serve neither of them,” he stated bluntly, much to Arya’s acute embarrassment. Her eyes darted away from his, mortified. Was she that obvious? When his hold suddenly softened and, Arya went to pull away from, however in an act that belied the harshness of his words, Jaqen brought her palm up to his lips. They stayed there, the most sensuous of brands, until she could not, not raise her head back up.  
“Never doubt this man’s want, Lovely Girl,” he whispered lovingly as he brushed his lips against her palm. “But a man is greedy, and desires more than a girl is able to. And the taking of pleasure without it is hollow to a man. As it should be to a precious girl, who is worthy of only the best a man can offer.” He closed the space between them and moved the hand he had kissed to settle in the middle of her chest, over her heart; leaving little doubt as to his meaning. He wanted not just her body, but her heart as well, and somehow, he inherently knew that she was not in a position to offer the latter right now.

  
“There remains much to be said before an accord can be reached, but for a lovely girl, a man can and will be patient. He must,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly. “Or at least he shall try. Even now, after speaking his truth, a man must fight the temptation of his Lovely, Lovely Girl. Perhaps a moment’s reprieve would be best under the circumstances,” Jaqen suggested wryly before once again freeing her. “Before a man sees the folly in his own words. Go lovely girl; save a man from himself.”  
At a loss for words, Arya heeded his request, allowing shaky legs to lead her away. Just outside the entrance to the grotto, she stopped to lean against the cavern wall. The cool northern air was an instant panacea to her flushed cheeks and went a long way to settling her racing pulse. It could do nothing about her thoughts though; inundated as she was by the feeling that it was just her luck that one man who was saying the all the right things to her, wasn’t the man her heart desired.

  
*******

When the arrival of another of her bridesmaid’s had both Sansa and Ygritte abandoning him, Gendry decided to step outside. Not wandering far, since Jon would be back shortly, he stayed in the area of Winterfell’s outer-keep and took a deep breath. The cool refreshing breeze that swept past him carried the scents of the North. Only now that he had returned did he realize how very much he missed it: the freshness that encapsulated the northern territories, that had been more home to him than King’s Land had or ever would be. There was peace to be found in the barren landscape that one would never find in the south. But not for him today, he thought, as he recalled the brief conversation he had with the women immediately after Jon had left to grab them some drinks.

  
_**“She hasn’t slept with him. She said as much this afternoon.”** _   
_**“Yet,” Gendry mumbled back at Sansa.** _   
_**“And I doubt she will go through with it now, it’s obvious that she misses you” Ygritte had encouraged.** _   
_**“She was fighting tears, when I told her you were coming. Honestly Gen…”** _   
_**“Anger, Sansa. Did you consider that it wasn’t sadness, but anger she was displaying? That she could still be angry? And when Arya Stark gets angry, she doesn’t think, she overreacts. You tell her I’m coming and now she’s at the grotto with him. I’m sorry it isn’t exactly hard to figure out why, and both of you would be fools not to recognize that.”** _   
_**The two women beside him hadn’t respond. They understood Arya’s temperament as well as he did; impulsive was Arya’s middle name, and where they had deduced, she had taken Jaqen didn’t bode well for her intentions.** _

  
So that was that, Gendry thought, already seeing the battle as lost. “Fuck Arya: is he at least a decent guy,” he wondered aloud.

  
“Not sure, only talked online,” Jon announced from behind him, seemingly not at all surprised by his friend’s rumination. He uncapped a couple of bottles from the six pack he had brought back and passed one to his friend. 

  
Thankfully he gave no indication that there was anything other than familial concern in Gendry’s question. Even their friendship wouldn’t protect him if Jon was to discover that his best friend and his youngest sister had once been involved. Fuck, Gendry thought as he drew from the cold bottle of ale, maybe he should just announce that he was in love with Arya, and let the cards fall where they lay. Better to die by Jon’s hand, than by the thousand slices to the heart he would suffer seeing Arya Stark with someone else this weekend. Because he loved her so much, he really hadn’t considered that she would have moved on… how could she when he was firmly stuck in the exact same spot as when they had parted, of loving her, as much as she had professed to have loved him.

  
“Worried about her though,” Jon added, after he had taken a swill from his beer. “In my opinion this Jaqen is too old for her for one, and I really don’t like how he just showed up, you know, and has been able to drop his life to spend the last few months traipsing all around Essos with her. It feels all wrong, you know?”  
“What does Uncle Ned have to say about that,” Gendry asked knowing full well that Jon would have broached the subject with the elder Stark, if he felt that there was any chance that Arya was being taken advantage of. 

  
“That’s the strangest thing, you know,” Jon began before his answer tapered off and his frown completely transformed… “Look.”

  
From a distance Gendry spied her approach...alone? 

  
Jon smiled and cupped his mouth; his excitement of seeing her for the first time in months distracting him from their conversation. “About damn time, Little Sister!” His grin broadened when his call got her attention and hastened Arya’s approach.

  
Gendry finished his beer and reached for a second. He was going to need something to get through the next few minutes, he suspected.

  
*******   
Oh god, oh god, don’t let me go Jon, Arya begged silently, as her brother caught her up in one those special embraces, she was convinced he reserved solely for her. So caught up at the thought of reuniting with her brother, she hadn’t immediately made out who was with him at first. And then, when she reached, it was too late. Oh gods, she had absolutely no clue what she and Gendry would have to say to each other.

  
Unfortunately, it was all over far too quickly, and with a playful wink, she found herself face-to-face with the man in question, when Jon practically thrust her in front of Gendry. “Look who showed up while you were missing,” Jon teased.

  
Arya drank the sight of him in, probably longer than she should of, but Seven Hells, did he have look at her like that?

  
“Hey.”

  
The half-a-minute longer that Gendry stood there staring at her seemed a lifetime, and Arya couldn’t help but wonder if this was as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. Probably not since he wasn’t the one who had been practically begging someone to fuck her a few minutes ago. 

  
“Your hair is pink.”

  
“Thank you Captain Obvious,” she answered snidely without missing a heartbeat and she kept looking him over.

  
It wasn’t the ‘stupid bull’ he was used to; but was close enough. “I mean…you look good,” 

  
“Thanks, so do you,” Arya returned, wondering why in the seven hells she had confessed that, other than it being the absolute truth. “Thank the Gods you decided to grow out that buzz cut, it truly did nothing for you, Bull.”

  
“Yeah, not one of my better ideas.”

  
Arya’s left eyebrow raised, as if to say how little she thought of his ideas. It was a move so typical of the Arya he remembered that he couldn’t help but smile. And then much to her surprise, he closed the little distance between then captured her in the fiercest of hugs.

  
Fuck it: If this was to be goodbye, then he was going to do it on his own terms, he decided. “I missed you ‘milady,” he murmured for her ears only. She stiffened at first, clearly caught unawares by that, but after a moment’s hesitation, relaxed and melted a little into him. Damn if it didn’t almost feel like old times, he thought. His body certainly thought so, he thought, as it began responding to her closeness. He clearly hadn’t an ounce of self-preservation around her. Hesitantly, he set her back away from him, before he gave Jon cause to wonder what he was about. She wouldn’t look at him now, but that didn’t stop him from attempting again to connect with her “So, the holiday was good, Arry? I can honestly say I’ve never seen such a vivid blue as that water.”

  
Arya’s eyes shot up to his, and her lips fell ajar when she was lost in them as she was wont to do whenever he was near. “I have,” she whispered. Somewhere in her mind, she was struggling to reconcile the fact that even after everything, he was still keeping tabs on her online. Why would he, she questioned?

  
“Tarth is indeed a beautiful place, made even more so by a girl’s presence. A man will not be convinced otherwise.”

  
Arya blinked back to awareness, and turned her head, losing precious seconds before she considered how this probably looked and backed off from Gendry.

  
Gendry raised his head to meet the steady glare of the new arrival. Way too old, was his first thought, concurring with Jon’s initial assessment.

  
There was an uncomfortable impasse when none of them spoke, until the man’s hand grazed Arya’s arm to get her attention.

  
Gendry fought the urge to punch him for daring to touch her.

  
“Oh shit, sorry, Jaqen you remember Jon… and this…this is Gendry.”

  
The silver-streaked haired man acknowledged the young man with whom he had brief Skype interactions prior, and then turned his attention to the man unknown to him. “Another cousin, Lovely Girl,” he queried.

  
“Gendry Baratheon; no blood relation,” The ebony haired man tersely stated, holding out his hand.

  
It was taken and held a firm clasp.

  
“Family of the heart, then. A man is pleased to meet one the Starks consider their own. Though I must confess I am surprised that this kinship extends as far south as to encompass the Baratheons of King’s Landing. However, the Westeros is a wonderous place, where all matter of things can happen. A man is Jaqen H’ghar.”

  
“And where exactly is it you come from Jaqen H’ghar? Your accent isn’t one that is common to Westeros.”

  
“If one were to prescribe to the adage of home being where the heart is, then a man may be tempted to claim the north as his true home, but I fear that may be perceived as forwardness on a man’s part at this juncture.” 

  
“Very much so,” Gendry replied irritably.

  
Jaqenn paid no heed to the younger man, when the firm grip he extended became crushing.

  
“Ours is the fury,” he uttered banally, and then cracked a caustic smile when Gendry caught himself and released his hand.

  
Arya was frowning, although it was not clear which of them were the cause.

  
“Seven Hells, my gods-damned heel!”  
The group’s attention was suddenly swayed by the vociferous approach of the raven-haired female who unceremoniously placed one manicured hand on Gendry’s shoulder to balance herself while she examined the ridiculously high stiletto that had sunk into a patch of soft earth that punctuated Winterfell’s courtyard.

  
“Maya, I told you those shoes were useless up here. Why didn’t you change them?”

  
“In my defense, I did leave you inside Gen, so maybe you should have just stayed put, rather than endanger one of my favorite pairs.”  
Gendry laughed. “So, it’s all my fault?”  
“Basically. You should know by now that nothing comes between me and my Louboutin’s, so this is all on you,” The girl goaded.  
“Next you’ll be asking to carry you back in.”

  
The girl chuckled as she determined that no real harm was done to her shoe, and then stood upright, stretching in a way that not only showcased the jean-clad legs that went on forever, but also exposed her taut midriff when the white crop top she wore under her soft leather jacket rose in the process. With her heels, she stood practically the same height as Gendry. Together they made a stunning pair.

  
“Did I hear that your name is Jaqen? It’s very unusual, but I must admit I do like how it rolls off the tongue…Jaqen. Very exotic; and quite suitable. I like it.”

  
“A man extends his thanks,” Jaqen answered with an indifferent nod.

  
“And you have to be Arya, right?”

  
“That would be me.” 

  
“I’m sorry,” the goddess spoke again, “Keeping company with this one, lends to his bad manners rubbing off. I’m Maya, Gendry’s…”

  
“Plus-one, yeah I figured as much,” Ayra said cutting her off. “Welcome to Winterfell. I hope you enjoy your time here.”  
Yeah, Arya knew that was all frosty bitch mode, but didn’t care. Not even when the woman stood there silently, staring her down. A pretty easy feat considering she was a fucking amazon Arya reasoned, but who the fuck did she think she was? 

  
“I expect I will. Gen has promised to show me the sights, in between the wedding festivities, of course. I look forward to experiencing all that made him the man he is today. Ideally in sensible shoes,” she insisted jauntily. “And speaking of festivities. Tonight: is everyone really actually expected to participate?” 

  
This damn girl was entirely too chatty, Arya thought.  
“Karaoke, oh definitely. Nothing like making a fool out of yourself to break the ice, or so Sans says. My advice is just to stay away from Whitney and Celine, and you’ll be okay. Unless you have the chops to back it up that is. Not that many of us do.” 

  
“Noted… no Whitney…no Celine, or the male counterpart for you Gen.”

  
“At least Sans isn’t having us sing for our supper,” Arya added, ignoring the woman’s banter. “That may not work out for the majority of us, but it should still be good fun. Now not to be vulgar, I’m tired as fuck, and really need to get some rest. Unless there something else you needed,” Arya asked, just wanting to escape to her own room now. However, she knew she would be doing her family a disservice by not being a halfway decent hostess and extending the offer: false or not. Mum would have a fit to say the least, if she didn’t at least attempt to be hospitable. 

  
“No that’s fine, I’m sure that Gen can sort out anything that comes up. So, I guess we will be seeing the two of you this evening,” Maya stated, casually looping her arm through Gendry’s.

  
Reaching for Jaqen’s hand, Arya walked away from the trio.

  
She heard some male muttering behind her followed by feminine laughter, and instinctively tensed.  
****** 

“Okay they’re gone, and I know you, let’s have it then.”

  
“First impression: She’s Impulsive and abrasive, but I suspect that’s only because…”

  
“Wait…what….no. Not her, Mya; him.” 

  
“So, you’re saying giving my opinion of Arya Stark is off limits?”

  
“Absolutely non-negotiable, Mya. In no uncertain terms…”

  
“Well that’s not fair,”

  
“Um, excuse me, exactly what’s going on? Is this some southern thing?”

  
The siblings stopped their back and forth and looked to Jon.

  
“I must say, I confess to be a little disappointed in you Jon Snow. I know we’ve just met, but do really think that a woman like me would be so bloody vapid without a good reason?”

  
“Actually, Jon” Gendry explained, “It’s more like a Mya thing. She has this uncanny ability to read people, you know, to discern their true character straight away. Sometimes she just makes a fool of herself in the process.”

  
“A means to an end Gendry,” Maya corrected.

  
“Ah I see. Impulsive and abrasive; yeah that about sums Arya up. Not like she actually hides that side of herself…it’s just Arya being Arya. If she wasn’t that way, we would all wonder what was wrong with her.”

  
“Fair enough, but rather than accepting it, have any of you considered why she is the way she is?”

  
Jon frowned, as if it never occurred to him that there could be a reason why Arya behaved as she did.

  
“It doesn’t matter, Mya, nothing you tell us about Arya will make us love her any less. Now, what do you think of him?”

  
“I get the sense that he is very perceptive, very determined and that he is totally and genuinely enthralled by her, but...”

  
The two men waited for her to continue.

  
“But…” Gendry finally asked.

  
Maya scrunched up her nose. “But there’s something odd about it all. Not necessarily malevolent, just something off. I wasn’t quite able get a handle on it, but I will. Tell me though: has anyone bothered to do a proper background check on him?”

  
“I’m sure Uncle Ned did, I mean he didn’t expressly say it, but we’re talking about his youngest daughter here. He would have gone and collected her himself, rather than have someone untrustworthy with her in a foreign land. After all, the only reason he had agreed to the volunteer abroad program in the first place was because Gendry was originally going to be with her; that is before he decided to go to King’s Landing instead.”

  
Maya hadn’t known; but it actually went a long way in helping her to understand her brother past decisions.

  
And he was a bloody moron, if what she suspected was correct.

  
“So, is there anywhere close we can explore, Gen. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs a bit. Provided, of course, my heels survive the journey.”  
“The old forge isn’t too far,” Gendry stated. “The key still where it usually is Jon?”

  
“Aye.’

  
“Great. Thanks for the beers mate. Next round on me this evening,” Gendry affirmed, as he offered his arm again to his sister. Ideally, they would reach the outbuilding before Maya took him to task, as the look in the blue eyes that mirrored his were indicating. No such luck, as they had barely taken half a dozen steps before she lit into him.

  
“Is there something in the air up here Gendry that dulls a man’s senses? Jon’s cluelessness is actually quite sweet, but you dear brother, do you really fucking know nothing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening, and another chapter, approaches, and the first of a couple of pre-wedding activities is afoot. A few more characters (cue the bridal party) will join the us next chapter, each carrying a song from the heart.
> 
> Have amassed a cool playlist in my quest for the perfect song for this bunch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pKMKjlTlZI
> 
> I Do Cherish you, my Song of Choice (98 Degree version). I hope you think it's as fitting as I do

Her sleep had been deep, but not so much that she wasn’t aware when someone entered her bedroom. Assured of her absolute safety within the walls of Winterfell, Arya merely sighed when the heavy weight settled beside her on the bed. Besides, she had a fair idea exactly who it was.

  
‘Moron,’ she muttered as a tiny smile settled on her lips.

  
“You’ve gotten brazen since you’ve been away; who gave you permission to come to my bedroom?” she stated groggily when she felt his hand gently reach into her hair. “Forever interrupting my sleep when I really need it, Stupid Bull,” she grumbled, mindlessly rotating her head in the direction where she expected him to meet her half-way. She was certain he would be waiting, just like he always had whenever she had fallen asleep on his shoulder, which had been often. A kiss to wake her up had been a favorite of his, and often repeated, as many times she had drifted off when they would stay up late watching movies after her siblings had gone to bed since it was one of the few times that they could be together openly. Invariably, she would fall asleep towards the end of the movie, but he would always make sure that they were never caught out by her brothers.  
Still mostly asleep now, Arya sulked when the expected failed to manifest. “Gen,” she murmured softly, confused when, after a moment’s hesitation he avoided her mouth entirely, and instead brushed his lips softly against her temple. And then, most bizarrely, he just left her, not offering a single word; only leaving behind the whiff of ginger and cloves to linger in the air. While not unfamiliar, it was never one she associated with him.

  
Never.

  
Her frown deepened, as she contemplated that.

  
In fact, the only man she knew who favored that unique scent combination didn’t hail from Westeros at all.

  
And recalling who that was enough to startle her completely awake.

  
“Oh shit.”  
********

Gendry tried to convince himself that it wasn’t any of his business, but he couldn’t help but wonder what pressing business Jaqen H’ghar would have with Eddard Stark when he joined the assembled group, that the foreigner’s serene expression had, just for a just split second, slipped to reveal real annoyance when the Stark patriarch dismissed him in favor of attending his wife’s sister: Lady Arryn. 

  
Of course, he couldn’t help but suppose that whatever it was, it most likely had to do with Arya, who herself was conspicuously absent from the gathering of immediate family, close friends and one particularly chatty group of bridesmaids who had filled the great room in advance of them all leaving for the pub that had been chosen for tonight’s festivities. 

  
“So, should I make it down to King’s Landing, may I count on you to show me around, Gendry?”

  
He ignored Sansa’s best friend, Jeyne who had distanced herself from the other bridesmaids and had for some reason latched on to him and Mya about five minutes go. He checked the time while Jeyne carried on speaking. They would be leaving soon, and there still was no sign of Arya. Across the room Jaqen was now making small talk with Theon Greyjoy, but he noticed too, how the foreigner’s eyes constantly strayed to the staircase. And yet he had made no move to go and check on Arya. Yeah, something was definitely awry.

  
“Seven Hells, I swear that girl hasn’t a clue,” Jeyne suddenly announced derisively.

  
Tearing his gaze from Jaqen, Gendry’s mouth fell ajar as he watched Arya hurrying down the stairs. 

  
“I mean, I guess we should be grateful that she tidied up from the usual mess she is, but by the gods, surely as maid-of-honor, she ought to know that no-one other than the bride should be wearing white.”

  
Gendry hadn’t a clue if that was true, but if it was, then he thanked the gods, that Arya Stark was such a rebel. Clad in her figure-hugging white jeans and matching turtleneck sweater, whose single cutout offered a glimpse of one tanned, not to mention very sexy, shoulder, Arya had looked like winter itself. Besides being appropriate for the northern woman, the result had been stunning. Furthermore, she wasn’t in any way mimicking her sister who resplendent in her more formal all white ensemble epitomized the bride she was soon to be, Gendry thought. Not with her messy updo and certainly not in the block heeled pearl grey boots that followed the line of Arya’s shapely legs to just above the knee. They, in combination of the all too familiar bespoke pewter dire wolf pendant that hung prominently on her chest told him, under no circumstances was Arya trying to seek attention for herself. If anything could be said it would be that the younger Stark girl had made a point of proudly donning her family colors. And, all together she had looked entirely too perfect in his estimation.

  
“She looks like winter, a true Stark, which I think is more than appropriate for the circumstances,” Gendry heard Maya musing. “Besides Jeyne, it doesn’t look like our bride is much bothered by the prospect of her little sister stealing any thunder from her,” she added in response to Sansa Stark’s exuberant greeting and exclamation of how perfect she thought Arya looked.

  
His focus still across the room, Gendry neither noticed a minute later when Jeyne left to rejoin the bridal party, nor when his sister edged closer to him, until she looped her arm though his. “Stay away from that one Gendry; that jealous streak of hers will bring nothing but trouble.”

  
*********

The ride into Winter Town had been as raucous as it was brief as the hired coach carried the celebratory party the short distance to the Smoking Log pub. But for the presence of some older family members, the bulk of the group would have happily hoofed it to the popular tavern where the groom, his groomsmen and more guests were waiting. However, judging by Sansa’s excited squeal when the van pulled up outside the building, that would have been too, too long.

  
Ignoring the blatant ragging hurled in her direction, Sansa practically vaulted from her seat to exit the bus first to get to the towering man and bring an end to their self-imposed separation for the last two weeks preceding the wedding. The whooping and hollering had become deafening as everyone witnessed the passionate embrace that followed when Sandor Clegane finally had the woman he loved back in his arms.

  
As the others rushed to follow the bride-to-be off the bus, Arya retook her seat. With the noise dimming enough where she could speak normally, she turned to Jaqen who occupied the window seat of the row they occupied. “Jaqen, we need to talk.”

  
Due to her tardiness, they hadn’t spoken much when she had finally come downstairs, and while she doubted, he would mention it; he deserved an explanation for what happened earlier.

  
His pale blue eyes searched hers before he nodded.

  
“A man agrees. As does a lovely girl, so does a man have much to tell; specifically, there are things a man must unveil soon.” 

  
“Unveil?”

  
He reached up and placed one finger on Arya’s mouth in a move to stop the questions he could see on her face. “But not at a time when a lovely girl should be basking in her sister’s joy. Above all a man…”

  
An incessant banging on the bus window startled Arya. “Oi you two, save that for later, and come out and join the party!”

  
Arya shook her head, but got up, encouraging Jaqen to follow. “Tormund Giantsbane,” she clarified. “The wildest man I’ve ever met, and one of Sandor’s best mates. Thankfully not his best man though. I would run screaming before being paired with him,” she joked. “He’s Brienne’s this weekend, and she’s just tough enough to handle him.”

  
“A lovely girl is mistaken thinking herself so incapable. I do not doubt that this man is the only one a lovely girl can bring to heel with just a word or a glance.”

  
Jaqen’s eyes held an intensity that had Arya flushing as she took in his words, but then outside the next window, she noticed her sister and her slightly exasperated fiancé starting back at them. 

  
“Come on Jaqen, I really do want you to meet Sandor.” 

  
*******

“Sandor, this is Jaqen H’ghar.”

  
“A man is honored to meet you Sandor Clegane, and of course to offer his felicitations on your upcoming union.”

  
The normally reticent man was true to his self when he offered nothing above a simple welcome to Arya’s guest until Sansa subtly nudged him. “We’re glad to have you join us,” the gigantic man added begrudgingly. “Little Wolf; cutting it so close with your return had your sister worried.”

  
“Arya laughed and embraced the scowling man. “No, it didn’t, you were the one panicking, you oaf. You should know I wouldn’t ever let you down, big guy; Sansa yes, but never you.”

  
Gendry couldn’t help but smile, when he witnessed the interaction between the pair. For all his gruffness, Sandor Clegane had always had a soft spot for Arya Stark. As physically different they were, the two had just clicked from the moment they’d met. So much; that Gendry had been a little worried over the reception he would get from the man who laid every fault for his and Arya’s breakup solely on him.

  
Sandor had been pleasant enough though; although that could be due to his happiness at finally being with his lady-love after so long. Undoubtedly, he was a bit more cordial to him than he had been to Arya’s date, but Gendry appreciated that it didn’t necessarily mean that Sandor favored him over Jaqen: not at all. Even so, it was gratifying knowing that the gruff man seemed to tolerate him just a bit more than he did the foreigner. 

  
His musings were interrupted when an old acquaintance joined him. “I can’t imagine that you expected to have as much competition for the fair lady, when you finally decided to RSVP did you, lad? By the way, that was bad form waiting so long to do so.”

  
“Actually, I didn’t think a single RSVP would be garner so much attention.”

  
“Well, it does when it affects our maid-of-honor. By virtue of being Sandor’s best man, of course I would be privy to anything that may potentially cause discord at this blessed event. You have to know the man will kill anyone who ruined any of his beautiful bride’s planning. Hence, it becomes my responsibility to…”

  
“It wasn’t and isn’t my intention to cause any trouble,” Gendry declared defensively, finally turning to acknowledge the speaker face-to-face.

  
Beric Dondarrion smiled as he seized Gendry Jacket and began smoothing the younger man’s lapels. “Now that’s a shame, Gendry. Every woman worth having is worth a little trouble. Or in case of Lady Arya Stark, a lot of trouble. If I could impart a bit of advice, take your lead from our groom tonight and choose your song wisely.”

  
“Uh, well, I wasn’t exactly…”

  
“The hell you aren’t,” the ex-military man interjected. “You would have been better off not bothering to come, if you didn’t use any and every opportunity to plead you case with the little lady.”

  
The man’s about-face was mind-boggling. 

  
“And between you and I, Lad, for he will never admit to it; consider those words of wisdom as coming directly from the man of the hour,” Beric stated with a subtle nod in Sandor Clegane’s direction. “Now, speaking of trouble, how about you carry on inside and save that lovely sister of yours from the Greyjoy boy, while I see for myself the nature of yon Casanova.”

  
********  
It was amazing what the combination of a hearty meal, good company, not to mention an abundance of ‘top shelf’ libations could do one’s disposition, Arya thought as waved an unsure Beric off with the song they would be duetting in honor of the bride and groom-to be.

  
“Are you certain?”

  
“You have to learn to embrace you inner-child, Ser. It’s one of Sansa’s favorites. And as long as Sansa is happy, then Sandor will be happy.” 

  
“I place my faith in you then, milady. How about you; do say that you will be joining us in the fray.”

  
The corners of Jaqen’s mouth turned up. “A man cannot profess to be as entertaining as his fellow guests.”

  
“A man needn’t be perfect,” Arya stated.

  
“As long as a lovely girl is happy; so is a man.”

  
“Oh, you are good, Jaqen H’ghar.”

  
Arya refused to let Mya’s arrival at their table to sour her mood, but she did scan the room to see if Gendry was coming up behind her. It was inevitable that they would interact at some point this evening, and Arya was grateful that both she, and Gendry for that matter had, had more than enough people to keep them engaged where they (she, more so) wouldn’t have to cope with the confusion that being in his presence was causing.

  
“How about you then, Mya?”

  
Her blue eyes sparkled, “Oh definitely if the mood strikes, which could be sooner rather than later if I keep going with these,” she indicated, raising her glass. “Although I really doubt that I’ll be able to surpass Jon’s performance of Wild Thing.”

  
“That is true,” Arya agreed grimacing as she recalled her brother's tone-deaf rendition. “However, it did thrill Ygritte to no end.”

  
“As long as…” Mya began, but left the remaining unspoken. “So, why don’t we get another round of drinks, and all of us get to know each other a little better. For instance, exactly how did you two, meet?”

  
“You might want to hold that thought for a minute,” Brienne interjected as she joined them, “Barring Sansa, you are about to hear the best voice in the place.”

  
******

The crowd was still showing its appreciation for Podrick’s rendition of “Remember” from the film Troy, when, drink in hand, Gendry confidently stepped from the sidelines onto the platform and took the mic from him.

  
“Good Luck,” the genial man wished him.

  
“Yeah, you haven’t made it easy for me, mate,” Gendry replied over the mic with a grin aimed at the groomsman, before he approached the operator to confirm that the song, he had preselected was ready.

  
Assured that it was, he turned to face his audience and set the mic in place and then rest his beer down on a nearby shelf. Adjusting the stand to a suitable height, he sent a smile from his elevated position. The teasing comments from the gathering, reached his ears, and he chuckled. “Yeah: tough act to follow, but there is an old saying, “Where, words fail, music speaks,” Gendry stated. “Here’s to hoping that holds true in this case, and it’s not just the drink that ends up doing the talking for me.”

  
_**I do, I do, I do, I do** _

_**All I am all I’ll be** _   
_**Everything in this world** _   
_**All that I’ll ever need** _   
_**Is in your eyes** _   
_**Shining at me** _   
_**When you smile, I can feel** _   
_**All my passion unfolding** _   
_**Your hand brushes mine** _   
_**And a thousand sensations** _   
_**Seduce me cause I** _

_**I do cherish you** _   
_**For the rest of my life** _   
_**You don’t have to think twice** _   
_**I will love you still** _   
_**From the depths of my soul** _   
_**It’s beyond my control** _   
_**I waited so long to say this to you** _   
_**If you’re asking do, I love you this much** _   
_**I do.** _

“Do you think he’s drunk?”

  
The wistful smile never left Maya’s face, nor her eyes, Gendry when she answered Brienne’s question. “Perhaps, but ever since we met, he has always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Most times, it’s quite endearing.”

  
“And is this such a time,” the statuesque blonde prodded.

  
Across the table, Arya was quick to note that the ebony-haired woman merely sipped her wine rather than answering Brienne’s question, but that infernal smile did not leave her face. 

_**In my world, before you** _   
_**I lived outside my emotions** _   
_**Didn’t know where I was going** _   
_**‘til that day I found you** _   
_**How you opened my life** _   
_**To a new paradise** _   
_**In a world torn by change** _   
_**Still with all my heart** _   
_**‘til my dying day** _

_**I do cherish you** _   
_**For the rest of my life** _   
_**You don’t have to think twice** _   
_**I will love you still** _   
_**From the depths of my soul** _   
_**It’s beyond my control** _   
_**I’ve waited so long to say this to you** _   
_**If you’re asking do, I love you this much…** _

Beside her, Arya sure that Jaqen was studying her for some sort of reaction. 

  
And all she wanted to do was to escape, before she made a complete ass of herself, all because the man, she had walked away from was pouring his heart out to someone who deserved him.

  
This weekend was making out to be her own personal purgatory, Arya thought, as she gripped her glass. 

  
_**Yes, I do** _   
_**I really Love you I really Love you** _   
_**If you’re asking, do I love you this much** _   
_**Baby I do** _   
_**I’ll Cherish you** _   
_**From the depths of my soul** _   
_**It’s beyond my control** _   
_**I’ve waited so long to say this to you** _   
_**If you’re asking, do I love you this much** _   
_**Baby… I do…** _

  
She was going to be ill if she had to watch this.

  
There was no way that Gendry was not going to head this way when he finished his song, not after he’d practically poured out his heart over the course of four minutes. And no matter how coy Mya was playing, there was no way that this effort would go unappreciated… And that would kill her to see, so just as his song ended, Arya stood to excuse herself from the table, thinking to head to the only place she could escape to where Jaqen couldn’t follow, should he be in the mind to.

  
“Ladies’ room,” she announced sharper than she meant to. “I’ll be back in a minute, promise,” she added with a smile to soften the acidity of her words, when Jaqen just stared at her. Then, grabbing her clutch, she bolted from the table.

  
******

Three more minutes Arya imagined, was all she could afford before her absence would be noted. By then the worst would be over, and she could go back none the wiser what had happened after Gendry’s blatant declaration. It would be enough time for her to reapply her makeup which had been ruined by the sudden outburst of emotion that had swamped her as soon as she entered the bathroom stall. Fortunate enough to have been alone at first, she had given in to the bout of tears that had pricked her eyes and by the time someone had entered the lavatory the she had mostly contained the sobs that had come with the wave of sadness she couldn’t escape. 

  
Finally she sighed. Gods knew how much time she lost now, and she still had to try to set herself to rights. A quick fix, and the benefit of the dimly lit pub would just have to do, she supposed when she glanced in the mirror, before she began digging for the scant collection of cosmetics, she had on her.

  
“Wait, use these. They will get rid of some of the redness.”

  
Arya looked up and caught the reflection of the woman in the mirror. She shook her head in disbelief. She was cursed; it was as simple as that.

  
“So that wasn’t enough for you? You had to come to gloat too? If that’s the case, you’re not doing the best job of it. If you really want to do it up, you should have invited your new friend Jeyne to come and witness. Think of the laughs you could have together.”

  
Mya set the Visine drops on the counter.

  
“Sorry, invidious, jealous, over-reaching women are the sort that I make a point of staying away from, and Jeyne Poole fits the profile to a tee. Any interest she has in me, is merely her futile attempt to get close to Gendry.”

  
The fact that the woman could state that so dispassionately conveyed exactly how secure she was of Gendry’s feelings for her, and Arya hated her even more for it. She grabbed the eyedrops and used them quickly.

  
“Well, unless she is completely thick, everything should be crystal clear to her now.”

  
The taller woman leaned towards the mirror and began smoothing her fringe. “Oh, I’m sure it is. Gendry, well went all in, and showed his hand for sure.” 

  
Arya gave up, and began throwing the items she had pulled out back into her evening bag. Fuck it, she wasn’t doing this, it just wasn’t worth it. “Well, congratulations,” she grated out, as she zipped her bag closed.

  
“Seven Hells are you serious,” Mya asked grabbing the shorter female as she attempted to rush past her. She stared into the tortured eyes of Arya Stark, not believing the northern woman's train of thought. “Oh, you sweet summer child, I think you are confusing your clans; we’re Baratheon's not fucking Targaryen's. Trust me, my brother will never look that good for me to indulge in that sort of deviant bullshit.”


End file.
